Bullied
by northernbullet
Summary: Vince falls prey to a petty thug, and turns to Howard for support. T for language


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mighty Boosh or anything to do with the Mighty Boosh. I am a poor student. Don't sue me!**

**A/N This isn't anything too crash hot. I've been finding it difficult to get back into writing after Howard's Odyssey ended, so this is just an oneshot to get me back into the swing of things. Hope it's okay. Also, while I have your attention: There's an online petition for an Australian Mighty Boosh tour going around at the moment. It's called "Bring Naboo Home" - google it and sign it to help us Aussies out, and you'll make my day/week/life. And thankyou so much to those of you who have signed already. LOVE! Anyway, the fic...**

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Howard was torn out of a particularly intense jazz trance by the slamming of the front door downstairs. The sound was so loud that for a moment he thought perhaps the flat was being ransacked by hooligans, and he instinctively reached for the fire-poker resting against his chair. What exactly he was planning to do with the fire-poker when confronted with hooligans hadn't really panned out in his mind; realistically, he'd probably use it to jam the door handle and then hide under his bed. But he never had time to think it through, because an instant later he heard the sound of someone running up the stairs, and he recognized the pattern of steps. Not hooligans, then. Vince.

Howard frowned. It was definitely Vince, but something was off about the sound. Sure, Vince had been known to slam the front door and run up the stairs many a time; whether it was to gleefully announce the purchase of a new hat, or to sing the praises of a new club, or to beg Howard for a lift to a new Topshop opening. But this sound was different. Vince wasn't scampering, or bounding, or skipping, or bouncing. He was bolting. Frantically. And then, the thing that really triggered worry in Howard wasn't the _way_ Vince was running, it was where. Up the stairs, bypassing the living room and the kitchen, and straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him with a thud. Not even calling out a "hey" or an "alright". Howard felt his gut twist a little without knowing why, and he approached the bathroom door cautiously.

"Vince?"

No response.

"Vince? You alright in there?"

Still no response.

"Oi, Vince. You feeling ill, little man?"

Again, nothing.

Howard tried the doorknob and found it locked. That made him feel a little sick; they never locked any of the doors in the flat. It just wasn't done.

"Vince, come on, open up."

Howard heard a slight scuffling noise, and thought for a minute that Vince was coming to unlock the door. But no, it seemed like he was just shifting position. Encouraged by the sound of Vince at least moving about, he pressed his ear against the key-hole, listening intently. He could hear something, something faint and echoed off the bathroom walls. In an instant, he realized that Vince was crying, and his stomach dropped.

"Vi…Vince?"

Howard felt awfully out of place. He had seen Vince cry before, of course, but he had always known the reason why. There was something terribly alienating about hearing his friend's tears through a key-hole, locked out of Vince's sadness, unseeing, unknowing. He listened even more closely through the door, but received no acknowledgment from Vince, only the sound of more tears. It was a heart-wrenching sort of crying, too. The younger man was sobbing, but so quietly, as if he was howling a whisper. Howard fought the powerful impulse to break the door down.

"Vince, please. Please. Speak to me. Please."

"…H-Howard."

Howard felt small relief. "Yes, Vince, I'm right here. Could you open the door?"

"They… he…" Howard could hear Vince's breath hitch and his words dissolve into tears.

"Vince, please open the door. Tell me what happened."

"I… he called… he called me a _thing_… a thing…"

"Who did, Vince?" Howard spoke loudly through the key-hole, then straining to hear Vince's much quieter response.

"The… the guy… him an' his friends… they… they…"

"Vince, are you alright?"

Just the sound of more sobbing.

"Vince, speak to me. Are you alright?"

"…I ran real fast… I did… and I tried to… but they're r-right. M'useless."

"Vince." Howard realized he was using his friend's name over and over again. He didn't know what else to say, really. He had to ground him, somehow. "I need you to calm down and tell me what happened. And open the door. Please."

There was a pause on Vince's side, and then the younger man began talking again, a little more in control this time, but with a crushing warble in his voice. Howard desperately wished he would just unlock the door, but at least he was still speaking.

"I was… I was out at this club… a new club… thought it'd be genius but… it wasn't really my scene… started out alright but a bunch of angry-lookin' guys came in, an' they were… they were lookin' at me for ages, starin' at me… only I didn't think nothing of it, cos I'm used to people starin'… I _was_ lookin' pretty good an' all…"

Howard felt a tiny smile of affection creep across his face as Vince continued.

"…but then, one of 'em, the ringleader I guess, he came up to me… all my friends were on the dancefloor an' I couldn't see 'em... and he said… he asked me what I was playin' at, only I didn't understand him… and he laughed… and he asked me, what kind of… _bitch_… I thought I was."

Howard felt a fiery heat rising within him but kept it out of his voice. "Go on."

"…an' I still didn't understand him… I thought maybe he was bein' funny… only I kind of knew he wasn't bein' funny… Not funny to me, anyway. An' then he started sayin' all this stuff, 'bout how he's sick of seein' _things_ like me strollin' around London… an' how London used to be a place men could be proud of… an' how _things _like me give the city… a bad name…"

Howard heard Vince's voice hitch a little and get caught in his throat. The older man clenched his fists once, twice, three times, to try and rid himself of the rage boiling up inside him. He heard a strangled sob through the key-hole.

"Vince? Vince, it's okay, little man."

"Little man…" repeated Vince slowly. "…he said… he said I wasn't a man… an' I wasn't a lady either. Only, he wasn't talkin' 'bout me bein' a confuser… just a _thing. _He said… he said I made him sick… and everyone… all his friends… they were laughin'. An' I talked back a bit… an' they chased me."

"Christ, are you alright?"

"…I ran home. I ran a long way… I was too scared to stop. There was only a few of 'em, maybe three or four, but I was too scared… I ran home… I ran all the way…" Vince repeated himself in a wavering hollow tone. "I… I'm a coward. I ran… I ran away… they were right…"

Howard couldn't stand it a minute longer. "Vince. Open the door. You don't have anything to feel ashamed about. And you're safe now. Please. Please, open the door."

There was silence on the other side of the keyhole. Howard softened his voice. "Please? Open it, just for a minute, and then I'll leave you alone if you want, I promise. Just open the door, little man. For me?"

Thankfully, Howard heard a scuffling, and then the click of the latch being unlocked from Vince's side of the door. Howard turned the handle and stepped inside the cramped bathroom, the relief of being allowed inside immediately replaced by a piercing horror as he saw Vince huddled in the corner.

His face was covered with blood.

"Vince!" Howard rushed towards him, dropping to his knees, taking Vince's face in his hands. Vince looked at him a little blankly. He was no longer crying, but his earlier tears had left rippled track-marks through the blood, which was coating his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his chin, his neck, dripping down the collar of his shirt, covering his hands. Howard stared at Vince, holding his focus.

"What happened to you? What happened?"

Vince screwed up his eyes in fear or pain, Howard wasn't sure. He searched frantically for a wound, the amount of blood making him feel nauseous and as if he was moving in slow-motion. Still desperately searching, he spoke to Vince again.

"What did they do to you? Where are you hurt? This blood… Vince, you have to talk to me!"

Vince stared back at Howard groggily, his face looking worryingly pale. Howard felt his gut clench again, and he felt in his pocket for his mobile phone, ready to call an ambulance. A stab wound, something, anything… he couldn't seem to find a wound…

Then, all of a sudden, he realized where the blood was coming from. Vince's nose, and his mouth. He opened Vince's mouth – Vince hardly seemed to notice – and he saw the tell-tale cutting and swelling across his friend's front gums. Vince had been punched in the face. His nose and gums were bleeding. An immense relief washed over Howard. Although obviously the situation was still unbearably awful, Vince was physically going to be alright. The blood was covering him in such large amounts because he would have spread it himself, running frantically through the night, rubbing and clawing at his face, running his hands through his hair, the wind whipping through him, tears rolling down his face and neck. No stab wound. No serious injury. Howard felt wetness on his cheeks, and realized that his own tears had been silently working their way down his face without him even realizing it.

He stood up, and very slowly, with his hands under Vince's arms, pulled his friend to his feet. Vince was staring at the ground, and Howard could feel him shaking underneath his touch. He closed the lid on the toilet and sat Vince down there, so the still silent younger man was at least off the floor, resting his head against the coolness of the tiled walls. Howard then ran a bath, flicking his hands under the taps to check the warmth of the water as it filled the tub, constantly switching his gaze from Vince to the bath and back again. Once the bath was filled with hot inviting water, Howard turned the taps off and knelt in front of Vince, taking his friend's head again in his hands, noticing uncomfortably the blood which was staining his fingers. Vince still had a far-away look in his eyes, and Howard fought intensely to reach him.

"Vince? I know you've been hit, little man. That guy… he punched you, didn't he. He hit you in the face."

Vince gave the tiniest nod, his teeth clenched so hard that Howard could see the outline of his jawbone quivering. "They... they followed me when I left, an' they... the main guy... he hit me a few times, in an alley... it was dark, no one saw. He hit me... just a few times... an' then he got bored an' left. But I kept runnin'..."

"Now, you've had quite a shock, and the pain and all the running has probably made you feel a little ill and dizzy. But you shouldn't be afraid of the blood, Vince. I know there seems like a lot of it, but it's alright. Your nose and mouth have stopped bleeding by the looks of it, and once you're washed up, you'll feel a lot better. I've run you a hot bath, see?"

Vince's eyes washed over with a film of tears, and he blinked them back silently, still clenching his teeth, shivering. Howard noticed that Vince was also digging his fingers into his thighs, and he brought his own hands down to rest on top of his friend's.

"Hey."

Vince stared up at him, a twisted expression on his face.

"Hey" repeated Howard. "You're safe now, yeah? I want you to have a bath; it'll calm you down, and then we can talk about this. Alright?"

Vince nodded slowly.

"Are you alright to get yourself in, or do you need…" Howard let the sentence trail off, embarrassed. Vince didn't seem to notice; he merely nodded again, and said in the smallest of voices, "M'okay."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Just… don't go anywhere, yeah?" Vince still sounded kind of stunned.

"Of course I won't."

Howard placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Vince's shoulder, and could immediately tell that Vince was still trembling. He needed that bath. With great difficulty Howard walked out, ensuring that the door remained unlocked behind him as he left the room. He could hear the sounds of Vince getting out of his clothes, painfully slowly, and he waited by the door until he heard the surface of the bathwater being broken.

"Water's alright?" he asked through the keyhole.

"…yes…" responded Vince quietly.

Howard took this as a cue to leave his friend in some kind of peace, and he retreated into the living room, wondering what the hell to do with himself. He desperately wanted to see his friend again, but he knew that any further probing of Vince was useless until he had at least washed up and had a chance to calm himself. What had happened to Vince filled him up with so much furious energy that he felt like punching through a wall. Someone had hit Vince. God. Someone had _hit _him. And frightened him… chased him. It was all so ugly. Howard remembered all the times he had jokingly threatened Vince with physical violence. He didn't think he'd be able to do that anymore; he'd never be able to forget that first flash of Vince, face smeared with blood, crouched in the corner. How could someone do something like that to Vince… he was so innocent… he was beautiful…

The strung-out maverick sat back on the sofa, flicking through some of Vince's magazines (awful, all of them), drumming his fingers on the pages. Eventually, he heard the bathroom door open, and the sound of Vince going into his bedroom, getting changed, and then walking down the hall again. Finally, Vince came into sight, pausing at the other side of the living room. He was wearing his too-big pyjamas, cuddling himself pathetically around the waist, his hair all out-of-sorts, a stony expression set on his face. Howard attempted a smile.

"Hey, little man."

Vince merely looked at him.

"How was the bath?"

Vince nodded.

"Come on" Howard patted the spot next to him on the sofa. "Come and tell me all about it."

Vince remained frozen for a few minutes, just staring back at Howard, a cold and unreadable expression on his face. Finally he began moving towards Howard, and as he got nearer, his resolve began to crumble. He was almost at his seat when he burst into tears, his knees giving way, Howard quickly catching him and pulling him into an entangled hug on the sofa. Vince shook with sobs, his entire body heaving, and Howard held him as close as was physically possible, wrapping his arms around Vince's neck, running his hands over Vince's hair, rubbing his shoulders. Howard felt as if his heart was dying of pain and blooming with love at the same instant.

"Ssh… shh, love…" The endearment slipped out unnoticed. Vince clawed at Howard's shirt, mewling like a child, his warm tears moistening Howard's neck. Howard could feel his own heartbeat hammering in his ears, his fingertips, his throat, as he struggled to quell the rage inside of him and be there in the moment for his friend. The last thing Vince needed right now was more aggressive emotions.

Vince's keening softened eventually. By the time he was only sniffing back a few stray tears, Howard's shoulders were aching from Vince's vice-like grip, and he had pins and needles in his legs; Vince was still curled half on his lap as he was rocked back and forth by the older man. Vince seemed to sense his friend's discomfort, and hung his head, embarrassed, shifting off of Howard awkwardly. Howard thought he heard Vince murmur "sorry", and he grabbed the quivering electro boy by the arms, pulling him back onto his lap.

"Where do you think you're going?" he chided softly, wiping a tear track from Vince's jaw. His friend's eyes were red and watery, but the blue was shining brighter than ever. Vince gave a weak smile.

"M'sorry… M'making a big deal outta nothin'…"

Howard frowned. "Nothing? You call this nothing, Vince? You were attacked!" Calm down, Howard told himself. Don't freak him out again.

"I wasn't attacked, Howard. I was punched in the face a few times, is all. Happens to people all the time. I…" his voice dropped lower. "I should have been able to take it."

Howard tightened his grip on Vince, pulling him closer. "Is that what he told you?"

"…Yes."

"Well, you know not to listen to someone who is disgusting enough and stupid enough to…"

"…but it's true, innit?" Vince's voice came out high and cracked like a teenager's. "People are in barfights an' stuff all the time, an' they don't run home cryin' like babies everytime they get hit! That guy was right, Howard. M'not… m'useless. Not brave or anythin'. A coward. I was so scared, Howard…"

Vince's voice trailed off. Howard shook him slightly by the shoulders, feeling that fiery rage at his friend's attacker bubbling up inside him again.

"Now, you listen here, little man. You did the right thing, running away. You should never ever take on someone like that, especially not when you're alone. He had friends with him. He could have pulled a knife on you, anything!" That first image of Vince covered with blood on the bathroom floor hit Howard sickeningly in the gut, and he struggled for a moment to focus.

"…god, Vince. You did the right thing. You got home safe to me." He wished he could take back those last two words, which hung uncomfortably in the silence for a few seconds. Vince however merely cuddled into Howard's touch, relaxing a little.

"You really think so, Howard?"

"Of course I do. And you have to listen to me – I'm older and wiser than you."

Vince smiled up at Howard. "Keep tellin' yourself that, Howard."

"Oh, I plan to."

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The next few days went by in relative peace for both the boys. Vince's face bruised nastily; upon waking up the next morning he howled at the mirror's reveal of a swollen lip and a black eye, and Howard had to spend the whole afternoon convincing Vince that both would go away, even going to the effort of printing off proof of this from the internet.

Howard spent more time with Vince than he had in quite a while, even considering that they lived together. Vince was still shaken up after the attack, and he was too jittery to go out by himself, but Howard insisted that he not let fear rule him and force him to keep cooped up, and so accompanied the younger man everywhere he went. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, because it seemed so wrong to do so, he hadn't been happier in ages. Every time Vince smiled, it was like another candle was lit inside of him.

The weekend came around, and Howard was keen to take Vince out to a club. He hadn't been out at night yet, since what happened, and as much as Howard adored their evenings in together, curled up on the sofa, watching telly, crimping, bickering, telling each other stories, he knew it was time for Vince to get back in touch with his annoying and yet definitely inherent party animal.

The night went well to begin with. Vince was much less confident than he usually was on a night out; he didn't initiate many conversations with strangers, or dance as wildly; even his clothes were a step down from his usual costumes (though Howard conceded that he still looked like a futuristic prostitute, maybe just a slightly less futuristic one). He clung to Howard too, never drifting far from his side, glancing at him now and again from across the room when talking to acquaintances, as if to make sure he was still there. It was the role usually played by Howard, when Vince dragged him out to these godforsaken clubs. Tonight, every time Vince caught his eye cautiously, Howard's heart broke and warmed a little at the same time; sad at Vince's loss of confidence, and happy to know it was he who was trusted above everyone else. Sipping his second pint at the bar, happy to just watch the night unfold, Howard noticed Vince dancing a little with a few friends, and was so proud of him that he had to fight his instinct not to rush over to Vince and draw him into an embrace.

He only took his eyes off his friend for a few minutes, when he felt hands thumping him heavily on the back. He spun around in shock, and found himself face to face with Vince, the colour draining from his face.

"What is it, little man?"

"It's him… it's them… they're over there…"

Howard instinctively pulled Vince back behind him and peered over at the far corner of the bar. "Who, which ones?"

Vince pointed discreetly to a thuggish-looking young man surrounded by equally thuggish but smaller friends. Then he retracted his finger quickly and reached for Howard's hand. Howard could feel that he was shaking, and it made all his insides ache.

"Let's go, quick." Vince whimpered. "Before they see me."

Howard nodded, and led Vince around the other side of the bar and towards the exit. Just as they were approaching the door, Howard heard a loud voice booming behind them.

"Oi, it's that little tart again! And it's here with it's boyfriend!"

Howard tried to ignore the sound of approaching steps, but he couldn't reach the door in time before their exit was blocked by a few young men with mean-looking smiles. He turned, and Vince turned with him. They were standing face-to-face with the ringleader, the man who only a few days ago had attacked Vince.

"'Allo precious" the man snarled, blowing Vince an exaggerated kiss. "You ran off on us the other night… and I thought we was 'avin fun!"

Vince lowered his eyes to the floor, and Howard could just feel the shame burning from him. That's what killed Howard the most, not just that this man could hurt Vince, but that he could make him feel _ashamed_ for just being himself. And Vince had been doing so well tonight too…

"I'm Sean. Pleased to meet you." The man held out his hand for Howard to shake, clearly making a mockery of him. Howard ignored the hand, and Sean continued to speak.

"So, are you bummin' this thing or what?"

Howard kept his eyes on Sean the entire time, but he felt Vince's body shake a little next to his, and he just knew that Vince was holding back a sob. He flexed and unflexed his palm.

"Oi, I'm talkin' to you!" Sean poked Howard in the chest.

"You can't try anything in here" replied Howard, slowly and calmly. "They'll call security on you, and I'll call the police."

"Ooh, listen to that, boys! This one means business!"

"You're damn right I do" said Howard, struggling to keep his voice level.

"We was just havin' some fun with your boyfriend, mister!" laughed Sean meanly, turning his eyes to Vince, who was still staring intently at the floor. "Or is that your girlfriend? See, we wasn't sure. I figure it's more of an _it_, y'know, a bit like an animal. Poor dumb animal. What you doin', fuckin' an animal, mister?"

Vince took a step forward unexpectedly. "Leave Howard outta this!"

The outburst earned a roar of laughter and applause from Sean and his mates. "Well look at that, it's got a bit of life in it after all!"

Howard pulled Vince back next to him and spoke quietly through gritted teeth. "Don't rise to them, Vince. Don't lower yourself to their level. Ignore them and if they don't leave, I'll get security." Vince nodded, and Howard could see the tears in his eyes, waiting to drop.

"What's that?" Sean cocked his head towards Howard. "Sweet-talk? You two plannin' on a big night then?"

Howard sighed. "Just leave him alone. You've had your fun."

"Not as much fun as you'll be havin', it looks like." Sean laughed loudly. "You know, my ol' nan always used to say, there's somebody for everyone. And I gotta tell ya, mister, you're really provin' her right."

Howard grabbed Vince's hand and started ushering him towards the other side of the bar where the security would be.

"All I'm sayin' is that I never woulda believed someone would want to fuck a disgustin' little…"

Howard broke Vince's grip and rushed at Sean, smacking him clean in the face with a strong right-hook. Sean went flailing backwards, and Howard caught him by the collar, holding him up on his tip-toes before slamming him back into the wall. He held Sean's face very close to his own and whispered into his ear.

"You come near him again – you even so much as look at him funny – and I swear to god it's the last thing you'll ever do."

Sean let out a whimper and Howard caught his eye, forcing him into an intense stare, speaking with a low voice loaded with venom.

"I hope you don't think I'm joking."

"I… I don't…"

"I am deadly serious. One wrong move, and I'll come for you. Now I want you and your mates out of here in ten seconds. Ten seconds. You hear me?"

Sean nodded pathetically, holding his nose, and Howard released him. Vince watched in a strange mixture of shock and awe as Sean hurriedly ushered his friends out of the bar, all of them looking fearfully over their shoulders as walked through the exit. The whole thing had been over in so little time that the security hadn't even noticed. Howard was shaking all over – terrified and exhilarated all at once. Vince ran to him, pulling him into a hug.

"Howard… what was that?!"

"I… I don't know, to be honest…" Howard felt a little dazed, as if he had been watching a film. Not the kind of film he usually watched, either. The films he liked were usually long and drawn-out, filled with heavy pauses and black and white cinematography, with enormous monologues and subtle gestures. Sort of the complete opposite of what had just happened, then.

"We should probably go home… you look a bit peculiar." Vince took Howard's hand, still staring up at him as if he'd fallen out of the sky. Howard nodded and the two of them headed back to the nearby flat, suddenly not fearing anything at all.

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Back at home, Howard and Vince sat side by side on the sofa, their hands cupped around mugs of tea that Howard had prepared. Vince was in the process of adding an obscene amount of sugar to his, and Howard took great pleasure in rolling his eyes.

"Howard, you look possessed when you do that."

"I'm merely expressing my distaste at your fondness for ruining tea. Heaps of sugar doesn't make everything taste better, you know."

"Does too."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Give me one example of something that wouldn't be better with sugar."

"…broccoli."

"Rubbish, it'd be way better with sugar. All vegetables would be. If they coated all that green rubbish in sugar, way more kids would eat it."

"You do realize that would defeat the purpose of getting them to eat vegetables in the first place, right?"

"Whatever" Vince giggled. He ran his hand through his fringe and wincing just a little at the remaining bruise over his eye, before looking back up at Howard.

"You were pretty amazing tonight. You know that, yeah?"

Howard blushed a little, and shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Also pretty stupid" continued Vince. "You could have been stabbed up or something."

"I know."

"What happened to 'don't lower yourself to their level' then?" Vince said, grinning a little cheekily, obviously filled with pride for his friend.

"I still stand by that" Howard protested. "I just lost my head a little. I couldn't…"

A heavy pause filled the air, charged with some strange kind of electricity that Howard didn't quite understand.

"…couldn't what?" Vince ventured, his voice soft.

"…I couldn't let him say those things… not about you."

Vince curled his fingers around Howard's, and Howard squeezed back. The electricity in the room seemed to intensify.

"You sort of saved me, y'know. You're sort of a hero."

"Sort of?"

"Well, you're still a northern jazzy freak. Can't get rid of that after one evening."

Howard gave Vince his standard expression for pretending to be insulted but secretly loving the banter, and Vince just giggled, a little shyly perhaps. And then suddenly Vince was leaning up, or was it that Howard was leaning down, and their lips met. Just for a moment, enough for the softest, sweetest kiss Howard thought was imaginable. They both broke away, a little embarrassed.

"What was that, then?" Howard ventured, inwardly cringing at his blunt choice of words.

"Dunno" replied Vince, looking halfway between scared and delighted.

"…sorry, I…"

"…sorry, I…"

They both spoke at the same time, and as soon as the words left their mouth, they began to giggle, nervously at first, until they built it up into a chuckle and ended in a hysterical laughing fit. Every time they caught the other's eye, it would set them off again, whooping and bellowing, rolling around on the couch. Finally calmness descended again, and Vince wiped his eyes with the back of his hand exhaustedly, his other hand still holding Howard's. Howard was still squeezing back. He caught Vince's eye, unable to think of anything but how stunning Vince looked when he smiled; how he could watch him smile forever.

"Howard?"

"Yeah, little man?"

"I'd sort of like to kiss you again. Is that alright?"

"Oh, come here, you..."

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THE END.

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**Alrighty, I finally wrote something. Hurrah! Reviews are lovely, as always ...and so are petition signatures! )  
Thanks guys.**


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